


I'm Not Okay (I Promise)

by BatmanWhoLaughss



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Amy Santiago Loves Jake Peralta, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s05e03 Kicks, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Jake Peralta Loves Amy Santiago, Post-Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:41:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23274145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BatmanWhoLaughss/pseuds/BatmanWhoLaughss
Summary: “Anyways, I’m going to go cry in the bathroom- peace out homies!”Post 5x03. Jake reflects. Amy listens.
Relationships: Jake Peralta & Amy Santiago, Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago
Comments: 12
Kudos: 177





	I'm Not Okay (I Promise)

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you like this one! I feel like Jake was really rattled by the events of this episode, and we didn't get to see it as much in the episode itself. And thus, yet another Peraltiago angsty fluff piece was born!! 
> 
> Feedback/kudos is very much appreciated as always. Hope you guys enjoy!

He didn’t cry. Not really. He made his way to the evidence lockup, and when he didn’t come out for the next hour or so, no one really questioned it. He sat on the floor for a while, occasionally punching a box or running a hand through his hair as a few tears leaked out. He was trembling-- he could feel his whole body shaking, but somehow, he couldn’t cry. He reached to grab his badge before remembering it was with his gun on Holt’s desk, and he felt cold all over. 

_Prison real bad._ He was supposed to be over this. He was supposed to come back, complete his departmentally-mandated therapy, and go back to being the best detective in the precinct. Instead, he felt different— unsure, jumpy, anxious and… empty. Not like himself. _Stupid._

Later, after Holt found him packing his things and told him he passed, and he admitted with a shaky voice that he wanted to ride the desk for a few weeks, he still felt off. Glancing around the precinct with one hand rubbing the back of his neck, he mumbled something about heading home early in a low voice. Amy gave him a searching look that made his insides clench— _she knew him so well_ — but he managed to smile at her as he turned to leave. He walked away, anxiety coursing through him that didn’t ebb even as he drove home and collapsed on the couch in their tiny Brooklyn apartment. Images were playing on a loop in his head— Romero, the guard who broke his arm, Holt’s disapproving look, the perp’s fearful eyes as he loudly proclaimed his innocence. _Prison real bad._

As the sun slowly set over New York City and his anxious feelings turned to sadness, Jake closed his eyes and tried to breathe.

Amy got home late that night. She’d been roped into helping Rosa work a string of robberies she’d been held up with for the better part of that week, and it was close to nine when she finally walked into their apartment. After the Pimento fiasco, Rosa needed to let off some steam, and Amy was happy to be a part of it. She’d rather have gotten home earlier; she could tell something had been bothering Jake that day. He seemed alright in the morning, excitedly chattering just like normal, but his leg was bouncing and his eyebrows knitted in that exact way they always did when there was something on his mind. She didn’t want to push him, but she caught a glimpse of his face as he left the precinct for the night, and the troubled look in his eyes had grown more pronounced. 

She turned around, toeing off her shoes, and was surprised to see Jake sitting on the couch, still in his work clothes. He looked… sad, morose even. His eyes were red, as if he’d been crying, and he was staring into space, lost in thought. He barely reacted to her presence. Amy’s heart clenched immediately; on a normal day, Jake would be in sweats or pajamas by now, curled up in front of the TV wrapped in a blanket burrito, immediately smiling at her and asking about her day as she came in. 

This was… this was _bad._ Upset Jake was bad enough, but this wasn’t normal upset Jake. Normal upset Jake would curl up with hot chocolate and Die Hard, until Amy got home and he’d rest his head in her lap and lace his fingers through hers as he fell asleep with her hand in his hair. She’d never seen Jake look this despondent in all the time she’d known him, not even when Sophia dumped him, or he found out his parents were back together. It scared her, enough that she didn’t even bother to put her shoes in the proper spot in the closet. 

“Jake?” Her voice was soft. She didn’t want to startle him, but he still jumped slightly as he turned to face her. 

“Hey Ames,” he said, voice low and lacking it’s usual enthusiasm. “How was your day?”

Of _course_ he’s still thinking about her, and despite her growing feelings of concern, she fought the urge to smile. “Not bad. Got tied up working a string of B&Es with Rosa after she broke up with Pimento. Sorry I’m home so late.” 

“It’s okay. Duty calls.” His voice still had that melancholy tone to it, and Amy felt like crying at the sound of it. It didn’t escape her notice that, on a normal night, Jake would have instantly jumped up at the sound of work gossip, grilling her for the details. Now, he didn’t even notice.

He’d been… subdued, since he’d been back. He was still the same Jake, _her_ Jake, but he seemed to laugh just a _little_ bit less, talk a _little_ less loud when he was excited. The light that seemed to perpetually surround Jake Peralta had dimmed slightly, and she _hated it._ He hadn’t talked much about what he went through. She’d seen the new scars and bruises adorning his body, and when she’d asked him about it he’d admitted he’d been beat up, but didn’t go into too much detail. He cried into her shoulder the night he got back, when he kept whispering _am I really free_ in a soft voice laced with disbelief that she _hated_ , but mostly he was a shut door. She knew it wasn’t healthy for him to keep it bottled up, and she worried about him, but she didn’t want to push him. Trying to make him talk before he was ready would just end badly for everyone.

Abandoning the plan she’d been forming on the way home of a hot cup of coffee and maybe some sexy times with her newly-returned boyfriend, Amy walked over and sat down next to him, not bothering to hide her concerned expression. Wordlessly, she ran a hand through his hair as he looked at her with those red-rimmed eyes. He turned so he was lying down, curling into her stomach as his head landed in her lap and his arm wrapped around her waist. Her hand kept up a calming rhythm as it carded through his hair, and she could feel the tension in his frame. He still hadn’t spoken, and Amy wanted _desperately_ to make him smile, or laugh, and take at least some of the sadness from his shoulders. 

After a few minutes, she felt him sigh, his arm tightening around her waist to squeeze her closer. “Wanna talk about it?” She bent down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

He stayed silent for a bit, and she thought for a minute he wasn’t going to answer. “I missed this,” he mumbled softly. Amy had to swallow the involuntary lump in her throat. The arm he had slung around her waist reached for her other hand, and she laced her fingers through his without hesitation. She squeezed his hand softly as she heard him take a deep, shuddering breath. Then, “Holt said I can go back into the field.”

That wasn’t what she was expecting. “He did? That’s great, Jake.” He’d been worried about the evaluation the past few days, she could tell. Everyone knew Jake got restless when he was stuck behind a desk. _So why was he so upset?_ She fought the urge to ask him a million questions, knowing he would come to it eventually.

He sighed again. “I told him I should keep riding the desk. I screwed up.” 

Amy squeezed his hand again and tried to remember to breathe. “What do you mean, babe? Screwed up how?”

“The perp in the sneaker store case. He… he said he was innocent. He was so _adamant_ that he was innocent, and I… I believed him. I _let him go_ , and almost blew the case.” His voice was starting to get choked up by the end, and Amy could feel him trembling. 

“But you caught him. It’s all okay. You’re back, Jake.”

“Someone else found him. I screwed up the case. I just… I couldn’t send him to jail. I looked at him, yelling that he was innocent, and it was like I was staring at Hawkins in the courtroom again.”

It took everything in her not to start crying when she heard his voice break. “Babe, you’re home. You’re free. You never have to go back there.” 

“I know, I know. But I- Prison’s _really_ bad, Ames. I barely made it out of there in one piece.” She could hear him fighting back tears, and she wanted nothing more than to pull him into a tight hug, but she waited. He needed to get this out, she could tell. She could go all mother hen on him later. “And now, I don’t… what if I can’t be a good cop anymore? I don’t feel like _me_ anymore. I feel different- It’s like I don’t know who I am now. And if I can’t send people to jail without bringing up my own issues, then how am I supposed to do my job? How… how do I start being me again?” 

She’d lost the battle against her own tears halfway through his speech, and she was glad he wasn’t looking at her face. She knows he’d worry about her before worrying about himself, because this was _Jake_ and he always put everyone else first, but he needed someone to worry about him for a change. 

“Stop.” He glanced up at her with watery eyes, concern flashing across his face when he saw her tears, but she stopped him with a finger to his lips. He swallowed thickly as she started talking again. “Jake, you’re still you. Of course you’re still you. You’re still the dorky, immature, idiotic, beautiful _brilliant_ detective that I love _so_ much, okay? No one’s ever going to take that away from you. And maybe you’ve changed a bit, but Jake, you went through something awful. It’d be weird if you didn’t change. It’s normal to need an adjustment period. You’re the _best_ detective I’ve _ever_ met, and even if you’re a bit off right now, you _will_ get back to normal soon, okay? I promise.”

His face crumpled as she was talking, and by the end of her declaration, his breath hitched as tears started streaming down his face in waves. She pulled him upright and wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he buried his face in her neck, his sobs growing heavier. She started petting his hair again as he cried into her shoulder, whispering assurances in his ear as she watched him disintegrate in front of her. He hadn’t cried like this since the night he came home, and she wanted more than anything to take his pain away. He didn’t deserve all the hardship he’d been through, and more than anything, Amy wished he could see himself the way she did. He had _no idea_ how amazing he really was, and she vowed right then and there that she would be there to take away Jake Peralta’s every moment of self-loathing or self doubt for the rest of her life. 

Eventually, his sobs started to ebb. She kept steadily stroking his hair as her other hand ran up and down his back, still whispering sweet nothings into his ear. He sat up slowly, wiping his eyes on the sleeve of the hoodie he was still wearing, and looked at her with bleary eyes. 

“Thanks Ames.” His voice was hoarse, but he didn’t sound quite so sad, and Amy’s heart swelled as he smiled at her slightly. She grabbed his hand again, squeezing it tightly. 

“You don’t have to thank me, you idiot,” she said, smiling as she kissed him softly on the forehead. “I’m here for you, okay? You don’t have to be scared to talk to me, Jake.”

He smiled back at her, and Amy could have sworn the sun came out in the middle of their tiny living room. “I know. I just… sometimes I think I’ll never get over everything that happened in there, and it scares the hell out of me.”

She frowned at him, putting an edge of her patented Santiago Stern-ness in her voice while still keeping it soft. “You will, Jake. I promise. It takes time. Don’t be too hard on yourself if you’re not bouncing back right away. No one expects you to, myself included.” She smiled at him again, and he smiled back, this time a little brighter than before. She cupped his face with the hand that wasn’t holding his, and warmth spread through her as he leaned into the touch, eyes closed. “Jake… what _did_ happen in there? I know you don’t want to talk about it, and I don’t want to make you, but don’t shut me out, okay? You can’t keep all this stuff bottled up.”

He opened his eyes, his expression thoughtful. “I know. I think… I think I want to tell you? But I… I don’t know where to start.”

She smiled. They were back in familiar territory now. “Come on. Coffee. Then we’ll talk.”

20 minutes later, they were back on the couch again, Jake’s head on Amy’s shoulder and hot mugs tucked in both of their laps. Die hard was turned down low on their television, but neither of them were paying much attention to it. Jake talked, more than he ever talked before, Amy’s hand never letting go of his. He told her _everything,_ everything he was too afraid to say to his NYPD-issued therapist, everything he was too afraid to say to Holt, and every ugly detail of what happened to him. He told her about his stay in solitary, about mashed potato Amy and his impromptu Lion King re-enactment, and about the time he cried himself to sleep in his cell when he realized he was going to miss her birthday. Amy listened to everything, not interrupting once. A bomb could have gone off outside their apartment, and she wouldn’t have noticed-- all her attention was solely on her boyfriend. 

It was half past three in the morning by the time they both fell asleep, Jake curled into Amy’s side and his head on her chest. Her arm was wound around him and his clung tightly around her waist. There would be more to talk about the next morning of course, but when Amy woke up to Jake’s soft, genuine smile and a mumbled thank you as his face flushed red, all she could feel was a deep, growing sense of pure _love_ for this man. She kissed him slowly in response, felt him kiss her back with a tenderness she didn’t think was possible, and she vowed then that she was going to spend the rest of her natural life keeping Jake Peralta safe. Anything else just didn’t make sense.


End file.
